


Filed Away

by doublejoint



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: F/F, FEHweek2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:48:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: There is nothing, Robin thinks, more attractive than capability--a thought that, relative to Corrin, she’ll file away in her mental notes for now.
Relationships: My Unit | Kamui | Corrin/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Filed Away

**Author's Note:**

> For [FE Heroes Week 2020](https://twitter.com/feheroesweek) (belated) day 4: Different Realms/Bonding

“What’s it like in the realm you come from?” Corrin says, tilting her head. 

“Well,” says Robin.

There are other people Corrin could ask who would know better, people with more memory of Ylisse and of the continent as a whole than her. Does Corrin know about Robin’s memory? Robin doesn’t know her well, but she’s not the kind of person to ask out of cruelty, so perhaps politeness or genuine curiosity.

“I was found by the Shepherds quite recently, and had no memory when I did. But what little I know of it has been...quite like Askr, actually. Beautiful places, castles and villages and forests, and quite a lot of danger. War.”

Corrin nods, and then—”ah, that was insensitive of me to ask.”

“No, it’s fine,” says Robin. “I wouldn’t want to lie to you.”

Corrin nods. “I see.”

“What’s your home like?” says Robin.

“I was raised in a fortress,” says Corrin. “It was quite cold, but my siblings got to visit me often. I was born in a different country, though--like you, I didn’t get to spend much time there--or, well, I don’t want to draw the comparison if it’s not apt.”

She’s blushing, red dusted on her cheeks like moss. 

“I’m not mad,” says Robin. 

“Oh--that’s good,” says Corrin, and she smiles, shy but earnest.

Robin has to smile back.

* * *

Robin’s used to earning the respect of others through her tactics and fighting ability, and she’s been a little relieved to know that she can still do that here, despite the Summoner being the well-respected chief tactician. They invite her input, and that of others around them, and though they command on the fields of battle, they always stress that it is a hero’s choice to fight that makes a difference in the end, not the orders they give. 

Perhaps it doesn’t say good things about her, but Robin’s glad that the Summoner never ventures onto the battlefield themselves, that here her decision-making and her use of magic can shine and make a difference. And she’s the one who is fighting side-by-side with Corrin, their bond strengthening every time one of them attacks or defends, every time they each extend their trust. 

It happens with the others, too, but Robin can’t help noticing that though there’s a rotating cast of sword and staff users surrounding them, she and Corrin are almost always deployed as the core of the team. Though Corrin’s still a little awkward and shy, and Robin still doesn’t know quite how to put her at ease off the battlefield, on it their resolve is cut from the same steel, riveted in place with the same strong bolts. Corrin is kind, but she’s not a pushover, and she’s confident in her own strength with her dragonstone, with the Summoner’s tactics, and alongside Robin--she attacks; Robin defends; Corrin darts between Robin and a sword user and knocks them out cold while defending. There is nothing, Robin thinks, more attractive than capability--a thought that, relative to Corrin, she’ll file away in her mental notes for now.

* * *

With patience, Corrin starts to open up more and gain confidence among the other members of the Askran army. It’s a little like when she first returned to her home country, she says, and there is something about her at home with actually settling in, with getting to know people, hitting the spot where they’re no longer strangers but not quite friends yet. She tells Frederick he reminds her of her brothers, and he glares at her but takes it as a compliment. She listens to Lissa like a sympathetic older sibling with more patience than Chrom would, a thought that apparently crosses Chrom’s mind as well.

“I don’t get it,” he says.

“You’re being replaced,” Robin tells him with a straight face, and maybe she shouldn’t tease him about that but it’s amusing anyway.

Robin’s not the only one who’s watching others, though.

“I can see why Corrin likes you,” her sister Camilla says, and without much context all the information and all the feelings filed away in Robin’s mind fly to the surface, as if the particular papers have been summoned in her hand and arranged into a tome. 

Camilla had certainly smiled like she’d meant it in a particular way. Robin wants it to be that particular way, wants to revisit in her mind the images of Corrin blushing or laughing or playing with her hair, her face as she listens intently or tries to think of good advice or is laser-focused on defeating the most immediate enemy, her voice as she calls out and attacks.

She wants Corrin to like her in that way, wants that smile directed at her. But maybe Corrin doesn’t need a relationship to distract her; maybe Robin’s reading the wrong thing into her kindness. 

Battle tactics are much easier than this.

* * *

When Robin finds herself unable to sleep, she wanders the halls. The castle is never silent; there are always heroes on patrol, and there’s always someone in the library when she goes to find herself a good book to try and put herself to sleep with. And tonight, in the hall near the barracks, Corrin is leaning on the windowsill and looking out, craning her neck to see something. The moon, perhaps?

“Ah, Robin,” Corrin says.

Robin nods. “Good to see you.”

“Come over here? You can see the moon from this angle; it looks really lovely tonight.”

Robin complies. She expects Corrin to stand aside and let her look, and she does move a little bit, but not a lot, and Robin’s going to have to get quite close to her in order to see at the angle Corrin was using.

Maybe, as Corrin points, her hand close enough to Robin’s face for Robin to smell the standard army-issue soap she uses, that’s the point. The moon is beautiful though, a thin sliver as if someone had tried to clever it up before lighting it up and had it just misaligned. Well-played, a setup Robin couldn’t have designed better herself, perhaps dependent more on luck than anything (but still commendable).

“Robin,” Corrin says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Robin barely has to turn her head to meet Corrin’s mouth with hers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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